


Catch Me

by sleepyqueerboi



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Character dying from an epidemic, Character dying from mob violence, Character grieving over lost lovers, Logan is a high school teacher, M/M, Mentions of Murder, Multi, Patton is an angel, Possessive Behavior, Roman is a peasant, Virgil is a mob boss, a fair amount of 1920s slang in chapter 2, angel!patton, implied sexual relationship, shakespearean speech in chapter 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-06-29 23:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15739197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepyqueerboi/pseuds/sleepyqueerboi
Summary: Patton was an angel, a being of pure light, in tune to the surroundings and emotions of others. Perhaps that was why Patton found himself inexplicably drawn to three completely different men throughout his many years of life.





	1. Loving Roman

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by Catch Me by Demi Lovato, if you want to listen to it while reading then go ahead! I used one verse per chapter because I felt that each verse could easily portray a different relationship, with the chorus applying to all three.
> 
>  
> 
> Verse 1:  
> Before I fall too fast, kiss me quick but make it last  
> So I can see how badly this will hurt me when you say goodbye  
> Keep it sweet, keep it slow  
> Let the future pass but don't let go  
> But tonight I could fall too soon into this beautiful moonlight
> 
>  
> 
> Chorus:  
> But you're so hypnotizing  
> You've got me laughing while I sing  
> You've got me smiling in my sleep  
> And I can see this unraveling  
> Your love is where I'm falling  
> But please don't catch me

Patton was an angel, a being born of pure light and hope, like humans in almost every way. The only key differences were the wings he could manifest at will, and his immortality. He could eat if he wished, he rather enjoyed food as a matter of fact, as well as sleeping, although neither were necessary for his survival. All he needed was a healthy amount of natural light every day.

 

Patton came into existence not long after the beginning of the 16th century, surrounded by many other angels just like himself. They were living inside a church far away from most civilisations, hidden to the mortal eyes by a secret incantation known only to the highest ranking among them. Patton kept to himself most days, choosing to sit just in the church doorway, staring out at the dirt path and grassy field stretched out before him. How he longed to explore the outside world. The horrifying tales of demons, beings that ripped the souls from mortals and angels alike, did nothing to quell Patton’s thirst for adventure, although he had no idea how many years passed away with him mindlessly staring at the great wide world he would never visit.

 

One afternoon, while Patton was watching the clouds roll by, he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps coming from the dirt road. Adjusting his gaze, Patton saw a young man, a fair few inches taller than him, with skin more tanned than any angel Patton had ever seen and wearing a rather dirty tunic that went down to his knees, tied at the waist with what looked to be a length of black rope. The man was carrying a large sack on his back, that appeared to be filled to the brim, and suddenly Patton wanted nothing more than to help him, so he did exactly that. He picked himself up, dusted off his bright blue tunic which was tied with a thick, white ribbon, and headed out, glad for once that none of his teachers ever paid much notice to him.

 

As soon as he stepped outside of the protective barrier, it felt incredible and all too much at the same time. The bright sun was suddenly blinding, and exceedingly hot against his pale skin, all while the gentle breeze sent goosebumps across his skin. His bare feet were really feeling the grass and the dirt, and he would never forget this day for the rest of his eternal life. After allowing his eyes time to adjust in the light, he continued his mission of helping this young man, maybe even befriending him. Something about him was almost hypnotising to Patton, drawing him in. As he approached the man, Patton was grateful that he had been taught the dialect of the local people.

“Greetings to thee, sir,” Patton struck up a conversation as soon as he caught up to the man. He received a look of shock swirling in bright green eyes, and the man placed his sack down and wiped his brow before speaking.

“I am nay gentleman. I am but a simple peasant, sir.” The man seemed to take in Patton’s brightly coloured clothing and misinterpret it as if he had some importance. “Doth thee has't needeth of me?” Patton gave him a big, wide smile as he spoke next, overcome with the joy of speaking to a real life human. 

“I has't nay needeth of thee at all,” the man seemed to sigh in relief at that, and Patton steeled himself, now wanting to help more than he did before. “I wast wondering if 't be true thee did want me to holp thee carryeth yond sack? ‘T looks awfully heavy and thee doth behold exhaust'd.” The man looked even more shocked than before, running a hand through his dark brown hair to push it away from his eyes.

“Thee wanteth to assist a mere peasant with his crop?”

“Absolutely. Whither art thee head’d?” Patton picked up the sack, thanking the stars that he had extra strength to that or a mortal, as the man pointed down the dirt road.

“To Norwich Town, only a fair 20 leagues from hither. Shall thee very much accompany me?”

“Aye! I've nev'r been very far from mine own home ere, this shouldst beest excit'ment! Eke, mine own name is Patton.”

“They calleth me Roman. Alloweth us beest on our way, Patton, we has't much travelling to accomplish by the day's end.” And so the pair headed off, holding light conversation between them. Once at Norwich, Roman sold the entirety of his crop to a stall vendor for four small pieces of gold, and the pair walked back with springs in their steps.

 

It was the start of an incredible friendship. Patton began to sneak out of the church at least twice a week to see Roman, and they would talk about all kinds of things, such as the small turnip plot that Roman and his parents looked after, and the neighbouring farms with their various, plentiful fields. Patton also told Roman tales of his life at the church, trying his best to skirt around the fact that he was an angel by retelling how one of the younger angels managed to get trapped in the rafters after ‘climbing’ up the walls, which caused Roman to let out a loud, crisp laugh that made Patton’s heart flutter in his chest, something that he tried to ignore.

 

However, the flutter never went away. As each day went by, Patton felt himself become more and more drawn to Roman, more captivated by the fire that sparked in Roman’s eyes when he talked about one day becoming rich and giving back to his community, and even the way Roman formed his words sent shivers up Patton’s spine. 

 

It was late, one night, when Patton and Roman were sat under the stars, gazing up into the sky together. Patton’s head resting against Roman’s shoulder. Roman’s hand gently grabbed Patton’s, bringing it to his lips before laying a soft kiss onto his knuckle. 

“Dearest Patton, the last few years has't been the most wondrous of mine own life. I hadst nay idea I couldst has't such feelings f'r another sir, but i am so joyous yond t's thee.” Patton looked up at Roman, feeling his cheeks burn at how close their faces had become. “Thy eyes shine like the finest gold, yet hold the warmth of a million fires…” Patton immediately surged forward, allowing their hearts to sing in unison. This was Patton’s first love.

 

Due to living out in the country, nobody really seemed to mind that the two young men had found love, if anything the people of the nearby village were more concerned with where on Earth Patton had come from, as they were adamant that there was no grand church for many leagues. 

 

Once the high ranking angels learned of Patton leaving the church and ‘fraternising’ with humans, as they referred to it, he was disowned, essentially shunned from his own kind. However, this didn’t dishearten Patton at all. He had found a love with Roman stronger than anything he had felt for another angel. He was incredibly happy, helping Roman with the small turnip patch that had grown somewhat in the few short years of Patton knowing Roman, and he was constantly smiling ear to ear.

 

At least until the sickness came. A passing traveler from London had brought it to their sleepy village, and soon enough half of the villagers had fallen extremely ill, bodies burning up and eyes inexplicably losing their sight. Patton was panicked, he hadn’t learned of any healing magic before being shunned out of his group of angels, so all he could do was watch as his fast found friends very quickly disappeared around him. Even Roman’s parents succumbed, dying together in each other’s arms, and as Patton hugged Roman’s head, letting him cry over the loss, he vowed to protect Roman at all costs.

 

So he tried. As soon as Roman developed a fever, Patton would push all of his energy, trying, praying that he would generate some sort of magic that would heal, usually when Roman was sleeping to avoid being caught. When the blindness kicked in, Patton sat by his side constantly, practicing still. He knew that Roman’s time was running out, and he couldn’t stand to live, perfectly healthy as angels could not contract mortal sicknesses, while the man he loved more than life itself died, blood burning and eyes unseeing.

 

It was after a particularly painful day that Roman reached his arm out, grabbing at the air until Patton held his hand with his two own, placing a kiss on Roman’s knuckle.

“I’m right hither, ladybird…” Patton whispered against Roman’s dulled skin. The sickness had taken its toll on Roman’s beautiful features, although Patton still thought that there was nobody in the realm as gorgeous as Roman.

“Patton, mine own starlight…” Roman coughed, barely reaching his free hand to cover his mouth. “I fear yond these might beest the last breaths of mine…”

“I shall findeth thee a cure, Roman, I gage on mine own life…” Patton was openly crying now as he held tightly to Roman’s hand. 

“I would asketh f'r a kiss, but I doth not wanteth to soil thy health as well…”

“I'll giveth thee as many kisses as thee wanteth, Ro…” Patton leant over Roman, gently pressing their lips together, as kiss after kiss became blurred, their lips never parting for more than a breath. It only took a moment, and Patton felt Roman’s grip on his hand slacken, and there was no longer a pressure pushing back against his own lips. A fresh wave of tears overcame Patton, and he cried loudly, sobbing against Roman’s still-warm lips, his heart breaking for the first time.

 

The next morning, he left the sleepy village, his eyes still full with tears. He knew he couldn’t stay there, the pure essence of Roman yelled at him wherever he looked, so he decided to do what they contemplated doing. Going on an adventure around the whole country, maybe even the entire world, with only the clothes on his back, the wings wrapped around his soul, and the longing ache of losing Roman still sending shock waves through his shattered heart.


	2. Loving Virgil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Verse 2:  
> See this heart won't settle down, like a child running scared from a clown  
> I'm terrified of what you do  
> My stomach screams just when I look at you  
> Run far away so I can breathe, even though you're far from suffocating me  
> But I can't get my hopes too high, 'cause every hello ends with a goodbye

Patton wandered across the British countryside for almost three hundred years, staying completely to himself and never making a mark on any town he visited so he could return every fifty years or so. It was dull, and Patton had fallen into a very boring routine, but he felt comfortable with his routine. Even after being without Roman for far longer still cried himself to sleep almost every night, finding reminders in ever small village he went to, merely by architecture and small vegetable patches.

 

So, when Patton arrived in Portsmouth for the third time that century and heard that a ship was allowing people passage to America for an almost infinitesimal amount of money, he nearly jumped at the change, gladly dropping everything to try and escape the horrible ache in his chest. 

 

It was another forty years before Patton met him. Patton was wandering the streets of New York City late at night, not really paying any attention to where he was going until he heard a voice, deep and strong, in the darkness.

“Well, hello there, doll,” the voice rumbled, and Patton turned before immediately backing into a wall. There stood a man, easily six foot tall, dressed in a suit vest and shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal multiple pitch black tattoos, all intricate patterns and designs that Patton’s eyes were unable to follow. The man moved closer to Patton, allowing the latter to more clearly see his silver eyes, somewhat hiding behind the strands of hair that fell into his face. He looked extremely intimidating, yet there was something about him that slightly set Patton’s nerves at rest. Only slightly. “What’s a sweet little bunny like you doing out so late?” He placed two fingers under Patton’s chin and gently moved his head, almost inspecting him. 

“W-what do you want?” Patton managed to breathe out, trying his hardest to not tremble in pure terror. He knew he couldn’t die, not even if he was shot or stabbed, but that would only expose him as an immortal, which was the worst thing Patton could ever think of.

“Oho, so you are a guy. With these looks, Doll, I almost couldn’t tell.” The man leaned in closer, having to crouch down so that he was eye level with Patton. “How would you like to spend a night with New York’s baddest mob boss?” Patton’s breath hitched. He was a criminal, a pretty horrific one at that, and he was unknowingly interacting with a real life angel, he could smell the irony as it hung in the air. However, Patton didn’t answer in time, and the man grabbed Patton’s wrist and dragged him to the nearby car that presumably belonged to him.

 

Patton would’ve been lying if he said there wasn’t a small part that enjoyed the new company, the energy so different from Roman that it knocked the wind out of him. This man’s name was Virgil, and it seemed as if their activity in the car sparked something in the crime boss, as he took Patton back to his apartment, a massive penthouse with optimal view of almost the entire city. Once Virgil was spent, Patton went to one of the windows and stared out at the city. It was beautiful, most of the buildings twinkling with the lights that the fairly new electricity gave them, and the sky above twinkling back. Patton was so enamoured by the view that he didn’t notice Virgil coming up behind him until two strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and a head rested on top of his own.

“There’s something about you, Doll,” Patton could feel the rumble of Virgil speaking reverberate through both their bodies, and his heart was suddenly fluttering again. “Can’t quite pinpoint it, but damn, you’re intoxicating.” There was silence for a few minutes as Virgil trailed kisses down Patton’s neck to his shoulder. “Although, if we keep doing this, you’ll need to get dolled up into looking like a choice piece of calico.” Patton turned to look at him, and his confusion must’ve shown as Virgil let out a huff of a laugh. “It’s the 1920s, Doll, we’re what they’re calling homosexual, and they don’t like us. And it’s not like I can become a flapper overnight, too many people know my face and I’m not exactly dame material. But you…” Virgil ran a hand down Patton’s cheek before turning him around so that they were facing. “Get a bit of powder, some dresses, and nobody will know the difference. Unless they get you in bed of course, but you wouldn’t do that.” It wasn’t even a question of whether Patton wanted to do this, it was more of Virgil telling him what was going to happen, and all Patton could do was nod and agree. He felt like Virgil had a darker side he wasn’t showing, and Patton refused to provoke that.

 

So, it happened. While Virgil spent the majority of his days working with ‘his boys’ as he called them, Patton stayed in the luxurious penthouse, wearing different white and pale blue dresses, usually collared to try and keep him more covered. It only took a few short days for Virgil to become possessive, only allowing Patton to leave when he was around, and otherwise keeping him locked in the penthouse all alone.

 

At least, most of the time. There was one day, around noon, about a month after their first night together, that the front door unlocked and Patton saw one of Virgil’s men, dressed in a sharp black suit with the classic white shirt underneath, who simply gestured that Patton follow him. He did, and after a few blocks of walking he was taken to a seemingly abandoned warehouse that was full of other thugs and criminals. It made Patton’s skin crawl, especially the way they gazed upon him like vultures, so he was extremely glad when he was taken to a private room and saw Virgil sitting behind a desk.

“Lock the door when you go, Scotty,” Virgil spoke, seemingly no expression in his voice or face until the door was closed and locked, leaving only the two of them. “You look scared, Doll,” Virgil commented, and Patton shook his head, moving closer, noticing that the only chair was the one that Virgil was sat in. 

“Just confused. You usually want me away from your work.”

“I missed you too much to wait for tonight, Doll. Come here, sit.” Patton did a quick scan and yes, there were no other chairs.

“There isn’t anywhere for me to si-” Virgil grabbed Patton’s thighs and pulled him onto his lap, Patton straddling him with his knees against the chair, and Patton instinctively put his hands on Virgil’s shoulders to steady himself.

“Nice and comfortable. Did anyone touch you on your way here, Doll?” Patton shook his head, and Virgil actually smiled, placing a kiss on Patton’s forehead. “Good, good. Hopefully none of the pills out there looked at you for too long.” This time, Patton hesitated. A couple of the men had seemed to stare at Patton for long enough to creep him out, but should he voice that? A slight squeeze to his thigh made Patton look at Virgil again, he hadn’t noticed himself looking down at his lap. “Doll?”

“There was… one person, he stared at me… I think he might’ve tried to touch me but the guy who brought me here stopped him.” Virgil sat back in his chair, taking in that new information.

“Remind me to actually pay Scotty this month, he did good to protect you.” Patton nodded, before he was lifted and placed gently on Virgil’s desk, and Virgil stood up, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and removing his tie. “I’ll go have a word with this guy who tried to touch you, okay Doll?” Before Patton could respond, Virgil had gone to the door, unlocked it, and walked out, and against his better judgement, Patton got up and followed him.

“-Boss I swear I didn’t mean nothing by it!” The guy who Patton had mentioned was on the ground, cowering in fear and nose already bleeding. Virgil stood over him, holding a rather large, sharp knife that would've made Patton’s blood run cold if he had any.

“Oh yeah? How about next time you don’t even think about touching my Doll! She belongs to me!” Virgil leant down and plunged the knife, and Patton had to turn away, he couldn’t bear to witness a murder, not right in front of him, and put his hands over his ears to try and drown out the sickening screams, and worse, the cheers of those around from watching Virgil kill a man. Patton didn’t even realise it was all over until he felt himself get pushed back into Virgil’s office. He opened his eyes, now pressed up against the once more locked door, and saw Virgil, shirt and cheek covered in blood as he towered over him. “He won’t hurt you again, Doll,” Virgil whispered, before pressing their lips together in the heat of the moment.

 

This was Patton’s second love. Patton still felt somewhat sick knowing what Virgil was capable of, but he never laid an aggressive hand on Patton. He swore to never yell or hit Patton, and he kept his word, which allowed Patton to see his softer side, especially when he was too tired to do much more in bed than sleep. He was a cuddler, by both definitions of the word, pulling Patton close and placing many gentle kisses against whatever patch of skin he could reach, usually a shoulder or cheek, and moments like these gave Patton his bright, wide smile back. 

Nearly ten whole years passed like this, Patton now voluntarily staying far away from Virgil’s work, allowing himself to pretend that all Virgil was was a big softie who got injured every so often. Patton once again felt happy, and Virgil became even softer to him in the last few years, asking more for cuddles than anything else.

 

It was raining as Patton flitted about the penthouse cleaning. Virgil was paranoid about letting a stranger in to mess with their stuff, so Patton was the one who kept the apartment in order, not that he minded. It was nice, having something to do to clear his mind and wait for Virgil to return home. He usually said he would be back by the time it got dark, but with the heavy rain Patton’s view was dark all day, so he would have to wait.

 

It seemed like Virgil should’ve been home hours ago. Patton hadn’t heard a word of what he was even doing today, but now that he thought about it, Virgil did leave more sleepy kisses against Patton’s lips than normal before he left this morning. Hoping it would calm his nerves, Patton turned on the radio, and listened for a few minutes to the soft music playing.

“Now, we have some breaking news for you. Earlier this evening, a shootout occurred between rival mafia factions, which left many wounded and many more dead.” Patton turned up the volume, his heart in his throat and eyes feeling watery. “It has now been confirmed that the leader of one of the factions, a man known before as only ‘R’, has been identified as the 35 year old Virgil Ryans, and he was shot moments before police managed to break up the fight. The wounded have been rounded up and arrested, and those who died, like Virgil Ryans, were transported to a discreet location and buried. Hopefully now, our city will be-” Patton turned the radio off, feeling his breathing constrict as he tried to process what had happened.

“No…” was what Patton managed to say, before tears streamed down his face, and he screamed. He screamed with the pain, the dull ache of Roman’s death now mixing with the fresh wound of Virgil’s, creating a whirlwind of grief and despair that felt ready to tear Patton apart, as he grasped at his hair and pulled, screaming replaced with loud sobs that wracked his entire body. As he cried, his wings manifested for the first time in centuries, probably forced out due to the intense emotions that were taking control of Patton’s senses. He noticed the glow of his wings, and that only made him cry harder. A reminder of this eternal torture, Patton realised. In his anguish he grabbed a handful of the feathers and yanked them out, trying desperately to get rid of his wings, yet the feathers immediately dispersed into specks of light and dissolved into the air. It was fruitless. So Patton cried. He cried for as long as his body would let him, until he passed out sat at the dining room table, his wings the only warmth he could feel.


	3. Loving Logan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now you see why I'm scared  
> I can't open up my heart without a care  
> But here I go, it's what I feel  
> And for the first time in my life I know it's real
> 
> But you're so hypnotizing  
> You've got me laughing while I sing  
> You've got me smiling in my sleep  
> And I can see this unraveling  
> Your love is where I'm falling  
> So please don't catch me
> 
> If this is love please don't break me  
> I'm giving up so just catch me

Patton felt empty. He felt so low and alone. He stayed in that apartment, that cursed apartment, numb to his surroundings and his feelings. Nobody came for a good ten years or so, not until the war started, and people were knocking on every door they could find to get soldiers. Patton hid and flew away that night, and he resorted to living in a small patch of forest in the middle of nowhere. There were no animals, only trees and himself.

 

There he stayed for longer than he could know, sleeping the entire time, and was only awoken by someone shaking him awake.

“Hey, kid, you alive?” was what the gruff voice that woke him up said. He opened his eyes, noticing that the man was dressed in weird, bright clothing covered in strips that were reflecting the lights coming from whatever the other people were holding. Patton also noticed a slight fuzziness to his vision that he had never had before.

“I-I’m okay…” Patton managed, his throat hoarse.

“Then get out of the way, we’re trying to build here.” Startled, Patton stood up and hurriedly started walking, his legs incredibly stiff and shaky. He looked around, noticing that there were tall buildings not too far off in the distance, had he really been asleep that long? Once out of sight of the men who found him, Patton took off, heading for where he hoped New York would still stand.

 

It did, with lots of people wandering the streets, talking away, even those who seemed to be alone. Patton wandered for a moment, noticing that the building where Virgil’s penthouse had been was no more, replaced by a skyscraper twice as tall covered with what appeared to be large sheets of glass displaying various images that changed of their own accord. Eventually, Patton managed to grab hold of a newspaper, and he checked the date.

“March 12th… 2010!?” He had been asleep for sixty eight years, almost to the day! He set off, paper still in hand, knowing that he would need to try and reintegrate himself into society if he had a chance of surviving. Who knew how much the world had changed since he fell asleep?

 

He couldn’t believe it when he saw a smartphone, walking past an Apple Store as he explored how New York had changed. Such a small device, primarily made of glass, that reacted to your fingertips against the glass? It was sorcery in Patton’s eyes, and he was eager to get one, despite him currently having no money that would be accepted in shops. He would have to work, and as he quickly discovered, he needed to go to school first and become qualified.

 

It was simple enough. Patton still retained most of his teachings from the church, so he simply stated on his application to the nearest university that he had slightly above average grades from a previous schooling (which was true, Patton was always exceptional back at the church) and he was in, using Virgil’s surname as he had none of his own. 

 

It wasn’t until Patton was already moved into the dorm room, that a letter slipped under the door, addressed to him. 

“Dear Mr Ryans,” Patton read aloud to himself, sitting on his bed. He wasn’t concerned about anybody hearing him, his new roommate wouldn’t be here until the evening. “It has come to our attention that you are the sole benefactor of a will left behind back in the 1930s. Please arrive at the return address as soon as possible to collect your inheritance.” Tears had brimmed in his eyes. Virgil had really left him something? Patton rubbed at his eyes, gently folding the letter and leaving it on his bed before heading out. He quickly set up a bank account (that was one heck of a drag) and made the arrangements for the money to be transferred, and then Patton decided to buy clothes. He was still wearing the dirty, well out of fashion jacket he took from Virgil’s closet, and he wouldn’t want to stick out anymore than he already had throughout the years. For once, he felt like appearing normal, so he bought a few different coloured ‘v-necks’, that was what the strangely soft, buttonless shirts were being marketed as, as well as some rather slim denim trousers. He also bought another jacket, one very much like Virgil’s but with a zipper instead of buttons and a very loose hood. It was red with purple stripes running across it, two colours he knew Roman and Virgil respectively adored.

 

When he returned to the dorm room, multiple bags of shopping in his hands, he noticed a few empty cardboard boxes sitting by the door. His roommate must’ve arrived early. Sure enough, as Patton placed his bags just inside his room the other bedroom door opened, and out walked his roommate, holding another presumably empty box. He was somewhat tall, sort of in between Roman and Virgil’s heights, with eye glasses framing sharp, grayish blue eyes, and he was wearing a black collared shirt, which somewhat relieved Patton as not all clothing had changed. He put down the box and made his way over.

“You must be Patton Ryans, correct? My name is Logan, Logan Sanders, hopefully we will coincide without too many arguments between us.” Logan held out his hand, and, flustered by how much this Logan guy spoke, Patton simply returned the handshake.

“Nice to meet you too, Logan.” Patton put on a smile, but his mind was racing, because as soon as he held Logan’s hand, he felt electricity shoot through his palm and straight into his heart. He tried his best to ignore it, and Logan seemed to not notice anything wrong as he pulled his hand away. 

“I will be unpacking in my room if you need me.” And then, Logan headed back to his room, and Patton was left alone, staring at his hand. 

 

The first few weeks in uneventful. Logan had morning chemistry and astronomy classes, while Patton took fine art and world history in the afternoons, leaving their evenings free to slowly and awkwardly get to know each other. Logan was incredibly intelligent, knowing information about almost every tangible topic Patton could think of. All except angels, which Logan had immediately disregarded as myths and fantasy. 

 

Patton then took it upon himself to do research. He used the ‘internet’, a tool that allowed you to gain information on just about anything that still befuddled Patton, no matter how many times he used it. He learned of how humans created tales of angels living in the sky, with feathery wings and light encircling their heads, servers of an almighty power, and of the multitudes of fiction that incorporated angels and other creatures deemed mythical. He spent a lot of time searching these fictions and indulging himself, making light of the inaccuracies. 

 

It had been nearly a month when it happened. Patton awoke, in the middle of the night, screaming at the top of his lungs and tears in his eyes. Once he realised where he was, he silenced himself, holding his head in his hands as he thought over the dream he had had. He often had ill-natured dreams of Roman or Virgil dying, that plagued his mind whenever he hit a low point in his mood, and this time it was Virgil. Only Patton hadn’t just heard about the death, he was there, on the makeshift battleground, watching as the bullet sunk deep into Virgil’s chest and he crumpled to the ground, with- 

 

Patton shook his head, trying desperately to remove that image from his head. He had no idea how Virgil had died, just that he had been shot. His entire dream had no merit to it, yet fresh tears sprung from his eyes. He sniffled, before there was a gentle knock on his bedroom door.

“Patton? I heard screaming, are you alright?” It was Logan, not like Patton was expecting it to be anyone else, but his steady voice did help ground Patton back into the present. 

“‘M fine…” Patton’s voice cracked as he spoke, but he refused to feel embarrassed about his distraught state. “Bad dream. Sorry for waking you.” 

“Do not apologise, I was already awake, I have a class in a couple of hours.” Silence hung in the air for a minute, in which Patton managed to somewhat compose himself, rubbing at his eyes a little roughly. Patton heard Logan clear his throat from the other side of the door, either to say he was still there or that he was about to speak again. “If you wish to talk to somebody, my door is always open.” Then, footsteps walked away from the door, and when Patton dragged himself out of bed later, Logan was gone, leaving only a cup of hot chocolate and a note, written in Logan’s small, concise handwriting.

“Warm, sugary drinks are known to calm nerves, this should help.” Patton couldn’t help but smile to himself as he read the note, even if it was a bittersweet moment, as the drink wouldn’t affect him, but he drank it anyway. His heart was buzzing at the thought of Logan trying to help calm him down, although Patton couldn’t explain it. This was completely different to what he had experienced before. 

 

Roman stood in front of him, skin dull and drenched in sweat, eyes staring blindly.

“How could you let me die?” The voice was Roman’s and also not at the same time. It echoed, an almost gravelly undertone to it, and it cut Patton to the soul.

“I did everything I could, Ro, I swear!”

“Then why did I die?” Roman took a step forward, and Patton flinched away. “It was so painful. I was so hot and I couldn’t even see! And there you are hundreds of years later? How dare you get to live! You don’t even deserve to exist!” Another step, and Patton cried out as he saw Roman’s face visibly crack like it was made of porcelain.

“I’m sorry!” And then Patton was awake, this time lying on his back as he panted, more from the shock than any real need to breathe. He sat up, managing to pull himself out of bed and shuffle over to the door before hesitating. Logan had said he could talk to him, but what would he say? That he was an immortal being with grief lasting over centuries? Apart from never having told anybody before, Logan most likely wouldn’t believe him, and Patton refused to have anybody think he was a liar. Patton sighed, before opening the door, choosing to get himself a drink, but he paused.

 

Logan was sat at the kitchen table, and there were two steaming mugs in front of him. He looked tired, as if he had just woken up, but he seemed to perk up slightly when he saw Patton.

“Ah, Patton. Would you care for a drink?” His voice gave away that he had been sleeping not too long ago, as it was unnaturally soft, and Patton simply nodded, sitting across from Logan and holding the mug in his hands to try and revel in the slight warmth it gave him. It was a few minutes before Logan spoke again, while Patton simply stared into his drink. “I don’t mean to pry, and you do not have to answer my question, but… who is Roman?” Patton stiffened. It felt so strange, hearing somebody else say Roman’s name. “You mentioned his name while you were screaming earlier, I assumed it was another nightmare?” Patton nodded, before taking a shaky breath. There was this urge, lodged in his throat, as if he would suffocate and die if he didn’t tell Logan everything.

“You’re going to need to trust me on this…” Patton began, not fully sure what he was going to say. He saw Logan nod barely in his field of vision, still refusing to look up, and he sighed before continuing. “I’m… I’m not human. I’m an angel, and I’ve been alive for a really long time. Roman… was the first man I ever fell in love with, I don’t even know how long ago it was now, but this sickness came and it got really bad and-” Patton paused to hold back his tears. “He died, holding my hand.” The air was thick as both Patton and Logan tried to think of what to say next. “He was incredible, y’know? He was so full of life, and didn’t let how poor he was bring him down for even a second. I wanted to become rich and give back to his little farming village, give them all enough money to live more comfortably.” Patton gulped and wiped his eyes, before cracking a watery smile. “He would’ve infuriated you, his head was always in the clouds, eyes on the stars. I think he would’ve become an actor if he was alive today. Strange, how completely opposite Virgil was to him.”

“Virgil?” Logan had spoken up again, his voice even more gentle than before. Patton took a second to glance up, and saw nothing but complete trust in Logan’s almost icy blue eyes.

“He was the second man I fell in love with, after I moved here to New York. It must’ve been early 1920s when I met him, in some small alleyway. He was so raw, pure anger that concealed his other emotions. I guess that makes sense, considering that he was a high up member of the mafia.” Patton almost chuckled. “By then society hated gay people, so Virgil had this brilliant idea of me pretending to be a girl. He said I had the look for it, guess I still do, haven’t changed much. He was terrifying at times. All it took was someone looking at me the wrong way and he was on them like a savage beast. He killed a lot of people.” Patton took a moment to actually take a sip of his drink. It was warm, a mixture of chocolate and caramel. “He was different when we were alone, though. He kept me away from most of his ‘business’, so I mainly saw this sweet, gentle giant who wanted nothing more than to cuddle. He would be so different if he was around today, you might’ve liked his gentler side.” Patton sighed again. “He was killed during a gunfight between two different mob factions. I don’t really know how, but he was shot and buried somewhere undisclosed to the public. I cried so much that my wings just burst out of my body, as if the grief pushed them out. And I still have dreams about them, Roman at the height of his sickness blaming me for not finding a cure, Virgil bleeding out from various different places. That’s why I’ve been screaming.” Then, Patton stayed quiet, feeling somewhat relieved that he had finally told somebody. 

“You… mentioned you have wings?” Patton wasn’t expecting this response. He looked up and nodded, before closing his eyes.

“Shield your eyes, they’re bright,” was the only warning he gave before allowing his wings to erupt from his back in a burst of golden light, curling in around his shoulders to avoid hitting the walls. When Patton opened his eyes again, Logan was awestruck, his face awash with the golden glow, and Patton felt it, the tug of his heartstrings that had drawn him to Roman and Virgil, only it somehow felt slightly different. 

 

After that night, Patton and Logan spent many of their nights talking, Logan asking multitudes of questions about angel society, and Patton finally being able to ask the questions that would give away his age, such as what had transpired after the second world war, and how technology had made its leap into the modern day. 

 

It was one such night, and they had both exhausted their questions for the day, when Patton came to a realisation, one that he should’ve thought of earlier but it had finally come to him, and he easily voiced it.

“Logan? I think… I think I love you.” Logan spluttered into the water he was drinking and coughed hard to ensure he wouldn’t choke, and Patton was terrified. “A-are you okay!?” Logan held up a hand, allowing himself to clear his throat before answering.

“I am quite alright, Patton, I just wasn’t expecting that. Especially since you know where I stand on love.” Logan was aromantic (and autochorissexual) and Patton knew very well what that meant, he had spent a lot of time fascinated by people finding labels that fit them so perfectly.

“I know, but I don’t mean romantically. It’s platonic, I think, but it stills feels almost like a romantic love.” Logan straightened his glasses, his cheeks slightly red.

“Well, in that case, I think I platonically love you too.” Patton’s face suddenly became immensely hot, and he couldn’t help but smile wide.

 

Queerplatonic. That was the name for it. A relationship not quite romantic but different from a friendship. And that was what Patton declared it.

 

It was a Wednesday when Patton’s life changed forever. He had no classes today, and Logan would be back soon, so he was just lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling. He was bored, something he had never truly, calmly experienced before, as Roman and Virgil had brought such chaos and passion into his life. It was nice, Patton honestly really enjoyed the calm that Logan gave, and he felt like he would enjoy living the rest of his life in this way. As that thought passed through his mind, Patton felt a burning between his shoulder blades, so he sat up and allowed his wings out.

 

They were different, more of a burning, intense light than the usual soft glow. Patton wasn’t stupid, he realised what this meant, as he had never even considered the possibility of himself dying before, not even when Roman or Virgil died. He had considered himself an immortal force, but here, cosy in the dorm he shared with Logan, his days calm and filled with schoolwork and lazy conversations, he thought about it. He thought about if he would ever want to die, see if there was a heaven, maybe even see Roman and Virgil again. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of longing at that idea. 

“Would I like to die in this life?” He had asked it to the room, although the question was clearly aimed at himself. This life with Logan, would he want to continue living once it was over? Would he be willing to fall in love again, the heartache increase until it overtook him once more. No, he decided. He didn’t want that. Patton wanted to live this life with Logan, then see if there truly was an afterlife.

 

His wings heaved, and Patton realised that their light had dulled, and they had become heavy. Then, in a flash of burnt orange light, they were gone, and Patton suddenly felt a lot lighter, his centre of gravity shifting. His wings had just disappeared? Where were they? They never disappeared in that way, they usually folded into Patton’s body. As Patton tried to stand, as if to look for his wings, he fell over, not expecting his body to be as light as it was.

 

When Logan got home, they talked, and Logan suggested that Patton’s resignation of someday moving on had somehow made him human, and yes, Patton could now feel the gentle thump of a heartbeat in his chest, and he felt the need to fill his lungs with air, and a pang in his abdomen that was accompanied by a soft grumbling that grew in volume. Patton had become a human, an actual, real life human who needed to eat and breathe and age. 

 

They adopted a child, ten years or so down the line, when Logan was teaching high schoolers about chemistry and Patton had created an online business of making little keychains, wings shaped just like his own but in the shades of different pride flags. Their daughter was named Penelope, and her smile shined brighter than the sun itself, even after she became an adult. And when Logan passed away, a good 50 years after meeting him, Patton did not cry. He mourned, yes, and held Penelope as she let out a few tears, but Patton knew Logan would not want to see him cry. So he didn’t.

 

And, seven years, two months and twenty eight days after Logan’s death, Patton went to sleep in his now empty home, for the very last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'll notice, there are now four parts! The final part, the epilogue, will be uploaded soon! I had a thought of a cute scene and couldn't not include it in the story somehow. Thank you guys so much for all the kind words!!!


	4. Loving Patton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So originally I was only going to write the three chapters, but I had the idea for this epilogue and oh my word I couldn’t not write it

When Patton’s eyes opened again, he was in a forest. He sat up, extremely confused as he looked around. There was a warm glow coming from somewhere, and then Patton remembered. He had fallen asleep in his bed, weak and frail and actually old, but here he was, feeling the same age he had for nearly his entire life. Did he… die? Slowly, he stood, his legs shaky, but before he could find his footing he felt something very solid ram into him and he was on the floor again. He looked up, and immediately felt his eyes burn. It was… it was Roman!

“Patton, mine own starlight,” Roman was crying as well, his hands cupping Patton’s face as if he were a precious gem. “How I’ve long'd to hold thee once again…” Patton copied Roman’s actions.

“Roman… oh my word Roman it’s really you… but how?” Roman gave a very watery smile, before leaning down, touching his nose to Patton’s.

“Welcome to heaven, my angel,” Roman whispered before crashing his lips into Patton’s, and Patton’s heart was singing once more. He hadn’t felt Roman’s kiss in over six hundred years, and here he was, very warm and real, and Patton couldn’t stop the flood of tears from cascading down his cheeks as he kissed back, his arms moving to Roman’s waist to pull him in closer. Once Roman pulled away, they were both panting somewhat.

“I’ve missed you so much, Ro…”

“I knoweth, ladybird, I've been watching ov'r thee ev'r since I did part.” Slowly, Roman stood up, pulling Patton with him and holding him extremely close. “As much as I would enjoy nev'r letting wend of thee again, I'm not the only one who is't hast been waiting f'r thee.” Just then another figure walked into the clearing, and Patton felt extremely overwhelmed. It was Virgil, hunched over but still towering over both Patton and Roman.

“Oh my gosh, Virgil…”

“Hey, Doll,” Virgil gave Patton the crooked smile he had only seen a handful of times. His voice was as deep yet soft as Patton remembered it, and he launched himself at Virgil, feeling smothered by his hug but in the best of ways. “I’m sorry for leaving you so suddenly…” 

“Don’t… I’m just so happy to see you…” Slowly, Patton reluctantly pulled himself away. “Wait, if you’re both here, does that mean Logan is too?”

“Logan is still at the mirrors, ladybird, watching ov'r thy daughter. The lady is as wonderfully full of life as thee.” Roman wrapped an arm around Patton’s waist. 

“Then let’s go!” The three went off, Virgil with his arm around Patton’s shoulders, and Patton talked animatedly, catching up with his two loves as they walked to see his third, and his heart finally felt whole.


End file.
